How to Listen to a Dragon's Plea
by TiGGs96
Summary: This is Berk, and my name is Tootheless. I am the smartest viking here in the archipelago. However, I am not the smartest being to roam these parts. My days were routine, never in my life would I think that my whole life could be changing in front of me. And it is all because of HIM! Rated T for safety.
1. Berk

_**CHAPTER 1**_

I live in a village called Berk.

It resides on a bitter cold ocean, in bitter cold temperatures, currently in a bitter cold spring…

If you haven't noticed, I'm not fond of Berk.

My village is, in a word, dull. It's full of predictable people following their daily rituals, today being no exception. The only thing remotely interesting would be the foreigners. The travelers, the traders, and the dragons.

My name is Toothless, no really, it is Toothless. The Vikings believe that using horrible names will protect them from trolls and other threatening mythical creatures. That and my parents had nothing creative in mind when naming me at the day of my birth. My name is not the worst, but I can guarantee that it is one of the top ten.

I stop to nudge a stray lamb back into the rest of the herd. My eyes darting above the night sky, looking for any dragons in case they come my way. While doing that, I hear a painful screech over towards the central part of the village. Squinting to see in the distance, the now lit torches show me a dazed Nadder faltering in mid-flight. And in looking slightly below, I could barely see a glimpse of what was once a wheelbarrow, now nothing more than splinters.

I knew whose handy-work that was; it was none other than the village chief, Stoic the Vast. Stoic was a man who had tree trunks for limbs, and hair as red and bushy as my sheep during the sunset hours. He would have had a teenage son by now, but his wife gave birth to a stillborn. The nursemaid took note that the babe was runty, a true hiccup. She said to the elder that even if the lad managed to stay alive, he would have been too weak and sickly to last the rest of the winter. A few months later, the chief's wife died an impressive death against a Zippleback. Rumor has it that he is still in mourning, and refuses to marry another woman to sire an heir. So Stoic passed on his title to his brother's son.

In fact, I can see the chief-to-be now aiding in the fire brigade. Snotlout Jorgenson is your typical Viking, all brawn and not a lot of brain. I can promise you that as soon as Stoic croaks, I'll be taking the first ship out of here to ensure my survival. There is no possible way that I will be living in a place where I have to look up to Snotlout to solve my problems. The Thorston twins are also there as well, fighting and busting each other's head as per usual. Everyone here has heard at least one of the twin's "grand pranks" at one point or another. I've actually been targeted for one or two of them, but I showed them how _unamused_ I was at playing the part. Fishlegs Ingerman is hard _not_ to spot, being the behemoth he is. I don't know much about him to be honest. What I do know is that his great size and girth didn't allow him to continue the family business of sewing and patchwork. So his parents sent him off to become one with the front lines. The last person I spotted was none other than Astrid Hofferson. The Hofferson's have been known as the most skilled in battle, be it between man or beast. She is the most dedicated Viking, as well as the most promising. But she may be the last of the mighty Hoffersons. Although a valiant warrior, she is still a woman, she'll have to carry her husband's name.

I was interrupted again by a passing Gronkle, stopping once spotting my sheep. I quickly darted across the field to scare the straggling sheep back in line. The dim, white beings making their way to a trail I made in the forest. Said trail is wide enough for the sheep to pass without being snagged and leads to a fenced area in the woods. There is enough grass there for the whole flock t last a few days, more than enough for waiting out a raid.

The Gronkle now was heading for one of my smaller sheep, runts that have their fuzz carefully -and painstakingly- fluffed to appear larger than they really are. That way if I can't make it across the field on time, I wouldn't lose anything important. I turned away, focused on making sure my prized rams were making their way safely. I owned two rams, a young one with three-inches of horn growing from its scalp. The other was older, having an impressive rack that circles once around the ears with thick, long fleece. Both were strong and healthy, but the elder was more valuable to me.

Unfortunately, when I perched myself on a rock to peer over the sea of white, I could only hear one bell ringing above the sounds of fearful bleating. I tried to look ahead of the flock, trying in vain to find two sets of horns within the brush of white. But I only saw one pair, that of a three inches. I looked up at the Gronkle, resigned to see a handsome ram within its claws. However, it was only a hiccup.

My hand was now rubbing my temple, now feeling the beginning pains of a migraine. Somehow, someway, a stupid dragon managed to snag one of my rams! If I was a dragon now, I'd be bellowing smoke rings. My eyes were now scorching the ram in question, body tense in keeping my yells inward to avoid further attention. But as I look closer through my red haze, I'm taking in more details. Such as the bell and horns that circle completely around each ear.

I only had about two seconds to recognize my ram before it was suddenly yanked out of my sight, disappearing into the forest.

How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Dreamworks.


	2. Encounter

_**CHAPTER 2**_

_I don't know why I was doing this._

I swatted another branch as it tried to snag onto my vest, while irritably picking out pine needles out of my hair.

_I don't know why I was doing this._

This is what I kept telling myself as I continue to plow forward to where I can hear my ram's bell. Where I continue to follow deep prints. Where I know the dragon is waiting for me.

_This is a trap._

It was obvious, there were signs everywhere. The tracks were too deep for its size. Forced. The bell was out of eyesight but still in hearing range. Intentional. The untamed wild dragged me down and left me out of breath. Smart.

I snorted to myself when that thought crossed my mind. Dragons, being smart. I must be tired to even consider it. Dragons were creatures that, like any animal, live on instinct. If cornered by the enemy, it would fight. If found by a stronger opponent, it would flee. If it was hungry, it would go after the first signs of food. Though, animals can be resourceful. I once saw a crow pick at a twig to dig out a bug that was too deep for it to reach on its own.

Resourceful this dragon may be, clever as well. But a dragon is never intellectual. If a whole flock of winged beast of burden cannot take the hint that they will DIE in a Viking village should not deserve such praise.

Some may argue that walking into a possible trap set by a stupid animal that has the ability to set fire at whim isn't something to be hypocritical about. But I knew I had the advantage. Along with the bell, I could hear the dragon lumbering past the foliage in its wake. The animal was clumsy, hitting nearly every tree it passed. It was also confident, not having a single care in the world that a man in his prime is following him. More likely than not, the beast would saunter on by only to trip on its own feet!

_This might be fun…_

Adrenaline now pumping, I forced myself to take even breathes as the line of trees broke. I didn't know exactly where we were, all that I knew is that Raven's Point was in view. In front of me was grass growing near rocky soil, and a little farther down a rock steep deep enough to not fool around with. Within it was a pothole, stretching two houses across and three horizontally. There was a third of the ground taken up with a large spring, with some fish swimming about as well.

_A cove? Here?_

Pushing curiosity aside, I found an entrance that allowed me to safely climb down. Upon reaching the bottom, I kept myself between two large boulders. When reaching this area, I no longer heard the tell-tale sound of my bell. I had to rely on the footprints to lead the way, now even that was no longer reliable. The moon was long gone, dawn having the sky go from black to orange. I've been out here for nearly an hour.

A bleat caught my attention. I craned my neck to see my ram perched on an outcropping, one too tall for the sheep to climb.

_Alright dragon, where are you?_

As if hearing my thoughts, I saw movement from the previously motionless cliff face. A thin strip of the wall peeled itself from the shelf it was resting on, opening large eyes to face me.

Once seeing the being move once more, the ram seemed to consider leaping from its perch.

_What is that?_

I've never seen a dragon like it before, nor have I even heard of anything described as such. It was a medium sized dragon with a long tail, four paws, and two limp wings. It was rather skinny, reminded me of a cougar with it's hunched shoulder blades. It's hind legs were short, while the frontal were just a long and lanky as the rest of it's body. The neck was only slightly elongated, holding a head with large eyes and horns.

_Relies on sight._

_Seems flexible, and with a tail like that I should avoid dodging behind it._

_I can't see any ears or nose, deaf and lacks smell?_

_No visible mouth either, dang it, why does it have to be orange?!_

It was difficult to see what other features the dragon had with the white rock reflecting the orange light. But the beast's eyes provided enough comfort to where I could launch my staff in between.

_Should have brought my bow!_

Rookie move. In my haste to gain back my ram, I left my trusty bow behind. All I had to defend myself was my shepherd's staff. I gripped my weapon firmly and started making my way towards the reptile.

I didn't even make it out of the shadow of the boulders before the dragon grabbed my ram by it's fuzz and flew to the other end of the cove. It landed on the old tree, nearly dangling the ram over the spring. Said ram was stunned into silence once more, even when put back into solid ground.

Having now no means of nabbing my ram from the present position, I made my way back to the entrance. I considered going after the beast to gain back my prize, but with how unequipped I was, I had more likely of a chance to lose that bet. So I began my way back to the village.

_Why?_

Why didn't the dragon eat the sheep? Why did it just take the sheep if it wasn't going to eat it? Does it have a mate? Young mouths to feed? Did it just want the sheep in order to lure me-

_No!_

_No dragon is smart!_

_Clever, maybe._

_Resourceful, it has to be._

_But smart? Intelligent? Capable of setting such an elaborate plan for some larger meaning?_

_Well, you better believe that Snotlout will succeed as chief before believing that dragons having a brain!_

No, the thing probably wanted the sheep but realized it couldn't eat it without a mouth! It's probably still waiting for me on the ledge, wanting to attack me for disturbing it's feeding. Or maybe flying away to greet it's brethren so they all can feast on their good haul!

At the end of my rant, I realize that I lost track of the trail that I followed. An hour later I find it, another hour later: I found my way back home, five minutes later: I have to answer to very angry parents on why I was gone so long and on why the sheep aren't grazing in the fields.

What a fun day this was turning out to be…

* * *

How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Dreamworks.


	3. Not a Good Day

_**Chapter 3**_

The Viking were heading out to find the nest.

Again…

The chief decided on venturing out, hoping to find the nest before the winter's ice settles. The only reason I care about this, is because my father volunteered to participate in the voyage. (I say volunteered, but really, those who were at the meeting had to choose between coming along or teach the new students in dragon training.)

So, here I was standing at the docks. My mother was beside me, talking to some of the other shield-maids. Men and women at the village often call my mother beautiful. I agree to a certain point. She does have dark hair that she keeps strangled within her braid, reaching her shoulders. Her eyes weren't very appealing in my opinion, just the basic greens of the village. The jaw was strong, but emphasized the masculine within her instead of the feminine. Body-wise, well, she was big-boned.

Father wasn't much better, I mused when spotting the man lugging some supplies unto the boats. He had black hair like mine, but much more ill kept. His beard was a scraggly mess, even when bound. It didn't help that the recent raid left him with a new patch of ash and the smell of burn hair. His eyes were pale brown, a very odd color. Sort of like sun-bleached leather, or a dusty table set. His body was very much like the other men in the village.

I allowed myself to sit down on the ledge of the pier, looming over the waters. I saw glimpses of myself within the ripples of the ocean waves. Unlike my parents, I was a pretty handsome man. My midnight hair glistened blue within my tinted mirror, my face free of the common freckles, and a mouth full of white, strong teeth. I had my mother's strong jaw, giving my 15 year-old face a more mature look. And both my father's and mother's eyes, their bland colors blending together and creating an interesting pattern. Add some of my own intelligence through these recycled eyes, and you get a unique gaze as sharp as obsidian.

A horn was blared, and I looked up to find myself surrounded with family members waving to the departed. Groaning, I pulled myself up to watch the fleets disappear into the distance.

* * *

I caught myself before I fell asleep. I sat up straight, periodically clenching my hands to get my blood flowing.

I look around the barn, seeing nothing of concern or out of place. I could hear and see my sheep grazing in the fields through the open window and barn doors. Standing up and stretching, a slight yawn broke free.

For the past hour, I've been musing over the fiasco with the strange dragon. With father leaving the village, mother went out to help clean up the wreckage. Leaving me alone, with my thoughts, with no distractions.

I just couldn't seem to piece together what exactly happened back there. The dragon had the opportunity to just fly away with a good meal. Instead, it let me follow it towards a cove for no intention what-so-ever.

I was caught trying to think of the situation and the dragon itself. A strange, distorted looking thing with a missing mouth. And, as I thought, very clumsy. Looking back, I realized that the dragon had slipped multiple times on the rock and roots it was climbing on. Along with the fact that it seemed to be a pretty weak dragon. It had no armor, and its claws as it's only visible weapon. I could have taken it on right then and there if it hadn't chosen to flee!

But now is not the time to think about the "what ifs." Now is the time to think about how I could better prepare myself from this new adversary.

I wandered out of the barn, returned with a rake, and started to pitch the hay.

While I could move on without the lost ram, it would mean admitting that the beast had a semblance of intelligence. And that I could not allow!

Of course, there is no telling if the dragon left the island or not. I could have possibly left with a full stomach. But there is also the possibility of it still wandering here, wanting to find a home near its food source. For survival, convenience, nothing more!

And with nearly all of the men off the island, a good hunk of the dragon slayers are gone. Not that I don't trust the women here, but that doesn't mean that Berk is in a vulnerable state at the time. If that dragon ever decided on attacking, it had the possibility to actually sneak in and out as it pleases.

With the hay dumped out and replaced, I headed out to fill the troughs.

I probably should warn someone about this predicament, Gobber at the top of that list. Whenever the chief is outside of Berk, his right-hand man and friend would take over temporarily. Not really the best of choices, but even I have no doubt that Gobber is the most trustworthy.

Still, for the concern of others, I should warn the village. But then again, the dragon in question didn't seem to be anything dangerous. I could slay it with my bow alone, then that would stop the rumors of me being a "pacifist" towards the beasts.

In a sudden rage at the thought, I overfilled the oats.

Calm down, a muddled mind will lead to muddled actions. And I am a Viking who uses my mind, thank you. Minds, what size would that dragon have. It would possible be larger being could have a larger brain, proportionally speaking. But how well would it work. Something seemed to work in there to allow the odd dragon to escape me. Though, that would be because I was ill prepared. Nothing more!

I also have to note to Gobber about the odd species, he should be able to recognize the breed. I heard from my mother that he was the one chosen to lead the dragon training lessons. Lucky for me, I won't be able to go. As much fun it is to see red stain everything in sight, I prefer a more ideal lifestyle. I may be a simple shepherd, but I'll be a shepherd that will be promised a long, healthy life.

Realizing that I traded the bag of oats for my bow, I shrugged and continued to head for my target range.

When reaching the large span of field, I went through the ever-familiar motion of notching an arrow. Eyes narrow, hands held tight yet gentle against the arrow shaft, I let it free. I smirked as I see my launch soar long and true towards the innermost target, at the very middle. A bulls-eye.

I continued to shoot at the multiple targets, dashing to the sided, crouching, leaping, attempting all sorts of motions and succeeding each one. For the finally, I grabbed three arrows and shot them all at one time. Like it's predecessors, the triad shoot got all the targets.

My bow, one of the many things that separate me from the other Vikings. While most are capable of chucking heavy axes and lugging huge swords, I was able to out-shoot all of them. The others would think that this wasn't anything to be proud of, I was able to stop all attacks coming after me.

Besides, it would be very hard to chop off someone's head if you have a hole through your throat.

When picking up my arrows, I didn't notice that someone was hobbling to me. I only took notice of the man's shadow before he spoke. Either way, he was the man I needed to talk to.

"There you are lad, been lookin' everywhere for you! Lucky I found your ma first or else I would never have found ye." Gobber called from above, giving me a clear view of his hook-hand.

"That's good, I needed to have a word with you as well." I stood back up to that I could see him in the eye.

"Your mother decided on sending you off to train against dragons."

"I wanted to inform you about the sighting of a dragon."

"What?" Somehow, we both ended up running our words together. I was unable to hear what he was saying, but it did involve something about dragons. Perhaps someone else saw that dragon and informed him already?

"I said that your mother told me to inform you tha' your going to join the rest of the teens for dragon training."

"What?" There was no confusion in my voice that time. I was at disbelief of what I had heard. What came out of his mouth couldn't be right!

"Ye never told me you were deaf. I said-"

"I heard what you said!" I snarled back.

Gobber gave me a look, "You're lucky I'm not Stoic, or else he would have ya punished for snapping back."

"But how am I in dragon training! I _shouldn't_ be in dragon training!" Mother knew! She knew exactly why I choose not to participate, yet she apparently signed me up!

"Kill the sender, not the messenger. Then again, the sender was your mother. Oy, either way, your treadin' on thin ice. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorn is how the sayin' goes." Just shut up! Shut up! I don't have time for sarcasm!

"Where's mom?" The sooner I find her, the sooner I could fix this mess!

"I found her in the village near the other shops, she actually stopped by mine earlier today. I questioned why at the time –being that she never stopped just to talk- but I guess now I know…"

Gobber soon faded into the distance the farther I left him. I stormed down through the sheep and passed the firsts few housed into the village square. I couldn't see my mother outside, so I assume she ventured inward. Talking to someone in my state wouldn't be wise, so I bypassed the crowd and the grunted complaints.

Mother! I told her my reasons! I thought she wanted our line to continue and rise out of the ashes, but it seems she had different plans! Oh ho ho no, that just won't do. That_ won't_ do! I don't ask for much, just a place to sleep, some plot for my sheep, yet she must feel like I drain her of all her needs! Sometimes, I just don't understand her.

With all the shops searched, I was ready to pull my hair out. Mother wasn't found anywhere! If Gobber was jesting, he would pay for this somehow, someway.

Turning to the last possible place mother could be, I opened the doors to the Great Hall. To my great relief, I spotted her at the very back of the building. I stared shoving people out of the way, not giving a rat's A on the complaints. That is, until I shoved a certain pig-faced boy into spilling his lunch onto the floor.

Snotlout did an about-face, and had the nerve to snag onto my vest and swivel me around! I was not in the mood for this…

"Hey pretty-boy, watch where your going! I was planning on eating that!" The chief-to-be had one sausage of a hand pointing in the general direction of his spilled food.

"Well what's stopping you? Just eat it off the floor you pig!" I was so not in the mood for this!

Before he could do anything, Snotlout was shoved by Tuffnut. The male twin did something of a glare, meaning to intimidate me. He was then closely followed by Ruffnut, his female counterpart and sister.

"Hey! Who gave you the right to push around the future chief!"

"Yeah! Do know who he is? You better back up sheep-man!"

"Why don't both of you suck-ups leech off of him a different time! I'm kind of busy at the moment if you can't tell!" I was really fed up at this time. And these two bozos weren't helping the red haze.

"You don't look busy now, does he bro?"

"Nope, he just looks like a stupid person just standing there, in the hall, talking about stuff no one cares about, like an idiot!"

"Uh, Tuffnut, you're the only talking at the moment" mumbled Fishlegs, his large form noticeably shrinking in on himself.

"Shut it Legs, no one cares!"

At this point, Snotlout was preened enough grow a backbone.

"I would fight you pretty-boy, but I have a date with my future wife and I would like to have my hands clean for once." He leaned his head back to look at his "wife," Astrid. Who promptly looked up and gave him an icy glare.

"Don't let me stop you from your suicide, it would do my eyes and the village some good." This was too much, what happened in the last hour that the day went this bad? Why was I here again?

"You think your better than me girly-man? Do you want to see me get ugly? I can be pretty ugly!"

"That's the truth…" If this is him at his best, what is Snotlout at his worst? A few swollen eyes and some broken teeth would do him some good.

Before I could do any of Snotlout's make-up, Astrid managed to come up and slug him across the face. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were apparently caught up in another fight and were only a ball of limbs on the floor. The hall now had a hog squealing on all-fours and two idiots knotted together.

"Heard the news."

"What?" I had no patience left, I couldn't remember why I came here, and now this chick wanted to talk. NOT. MY. DAY!

"Dragon training, I heard my mother talk it over with your mom." She nodded her head toward the back, where both maternal parents could indeed be seeing talking.

"Yeah, that." I growled. That's right, I came in here to question why mother forced me into this. I felt my eyes burn at the back of her head as she smiled on.

"Well, just don't slip up! I see you with your arrows and staff so I know you're not inexperienced. But remember that we need to be able to trust each other. When we're out on the battlefield, you need all the assurance you can get."

"Whatever…" None of her advice would matter anyhow; I would not be going to participate in the lessons anyway.

I walked away from the group, not caring for any one of them. For all of Snotlout's talk, he never did anything much to back them up. All he managed to do is to rally up the twins and all the little kids. Not exactly an ideal army to storm at the dragons.

I was heading to my mother before I realized that she has somehow left the building. In the whole crowd of Vikings, I had somehow lost sight of my mother leaving. I looked around in vain, hoping, praying that she was still here.

I left the hall in a blinding rage, wanting to just scream at the sky for my bad luck.

* * *

How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks.


	4. The Talk

As soon as I left the hall, I went strait back home. I didn't care if mother was there or not, I was done with people at this point!

Fortunately, or unfortunately, I honestly didn't know at this point! Either way, mother was at home when I returned. She was casually sharpening her sword and dagger, acting as if nothing was wrong. The house had the rather rhythmic sound of scraping, but the sound only made my teeth grind.

I love my mother, but this is one of those times when she has crossed the line!

"Mom! I have something to say to you!"

"Could it wait until later Toothless? The animals still need to be feed and I need to repair the weapons before supper." She didn't even look at me! All she did was continue to scrape, scrape, _scrape_!

Keeping my frustration in, I managed to growl out, "No, I would prefer if we talk about this now please!"

"Oh, it can't be that important."

"It's about the dragon training I'm apparently joining."

This caused a reaction, she stopped her grinding and looked at me. She gave a confused look, as if she didn't honestly understand why I was so upset.

"Dragon training? Is that what this is about? What's wrong sweetie?"

"MOM!"

That finally stopped this game of hers. Gone was the supposedly "ignorant" and "innocent" mother, and in her place was mom. She sat up strait, towering over me even when sitting down. Her eyes lost that child sparkle from before, her eyes blank, boring a hole through my eyes. The only thing that didn't change was her curiosity. Again, it seemed as if she didn't know what was wrong.

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me, Toothless." She wasn't mad, it was a rule that I should know by now. I still lived with her after all.

"Mom," this can not be delayed any longer," why did you volunteer me?"

"Why wouldn't I volunteer you? You're of age son."

"I already told you my opinion and the reasons behind it."

"But how will you go on with life without these lessons?"

"I'll move away like any person with a brain would."

"How will you find a job?"

"Easy, I'll be a shepherd, someone who can provide food."

"How would that make you happy?"

"I'll be alone, away from people, and I'll be able to do whatever I please!"

"If your alone all the time, how will you meet a nice girl and settle?"

"What?"

"If you're living by yourself, then you won't be able to find that special someone."

"Mother!"

"Then you won't be able to have your own little pairs of pitter-pattering feet."

"MOTHER!"

This was embarrassing! We were having such a serious conversation before!

"I'm teasing, I'm teasing!" Mother chuckled at her little joke.

This was my mother for you. She may be one a warrior of semi-high caliber, but she still acted on her old impulses from her teenage years. She may be sophisticated now, but she was a down-right rebel when she was younger. That is actually how mom and dad met, dad was one of her targets when he grabbed the last mug of mead available. And, as they say, the rest is history.

But she knew how uncomfortable I get when talking about… girls. They don't scare me, but they are just so different. I'm a pretty good looking guy, so I actually have a few admirers. But they just stand there twittering like a flock of birds whenever I come near them. And they aren't even in my age group, all of those…females… are only preteens. Not that the girls that are in my age group are very different. They may not ogle at me, but they seem to be more aggressive in their tactics.

I'm not scared, but I'm not ashamed to admit that the girls my age intimidate me.

"Mother, that has nothing to do with dragon training!"

"Not directly anyway."

Gosh… three minutes into this and I was already forming a headache. I pinched arch between my eyes, the mature version of face-palming.

"Mom, why did you put me in dragon training? As memory recalls, you even agreed to my terms. Why the sudden change?"

"Toothless, you're still too young." she sighed.

"But I am not a child. I know a lot more than most!"

"No enough."

I'm confused, she was switching moods again. This time, she was looking like a washed-out warrior. Her intimidating demeanor didn't change, but she seemed too old. I felt the sudden urge to comfort her, let her know that I was very much alive and well. But I ignored it, I had to get through to her.

"Mom, I'm nearly two decades old, I'm practically an adult. I know what I want in life and it doesn't involve me living at Berk." I admit to myself, I was acting cruel. But I _needed_ her to change her mind on this.

"I don't belong on Berk mom, my place is somewhere else. Somewhere where I can choose to go any direction, somewhere I can see things in a different view, somewhere the sky is the limit, somewhere I can be me. I am not a Viking, and I don't want to be one."

I already explained this too her, but here, I was making sure she understood how _I_ felt. The gloves where off, and I told her the raw truth.

"I don't want to live here any longer than I need to. I want to see the world. I know that need to be somewhere else, you know how I am when I was grounded! I'm not stupid, I know that everything isn't as I seems, I know that nothing is safe, I know that I'm not invincible, but I also know that I need to be able to spread my wings."

During my speech, she had kept quiet. She looked into my eyes and held my gaze. Despite Berk's chilling air, we both didn't break contact, both never blinking. My emerald bore into her green eyes, time slowing down around us.

I didn't know how to describe it exactly, it just something that we would all do to one another. Dad does it with mom when they argue over something and to me when I was smaller. These stare-downs are just tradition in the household, to help decide who is right or wrong. But that didn't mean the "winner" would win the argument.

This was one of those times.

We talked more about the subject, but I got no further answer from her. Well, nothing she didn't already tell me. She complained about protection, but she herself witnessed my bow practices. She talked about the future, which was something that I had to explain again. She talked about the past, on how long the tradition has lasted and on the demise of countless villages. Every question I threw at her, every single one, she avoided and countered. I didn't understand it, but I clearly understood that this was something that she strongly believed in.

She wasn't going to change her mind anytime soon.

* * *

How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Dreamworks,

which was inspired by the mind of Cressida Cowell.


	5. First Day of Torture

The day of training has begun. There was no way I could change my mother's mind, but that didn't mean I would let the others walk over me. If I couldn't leave, then I was going out with a bang.

I stood in front of the bridge entering the training grounds. I had little sleep the night before and took care of my chores during the night. This left me very early, with nothing to do. I really couldn't do much besides wait for the others to arrive. I adjusted the strap to my arrow sling for the tenth time, making sure it was in easy access. My bow was in my hand, freshly twined and practiced with so the string wasn't stiff. All of my arrows were straight, had their matching feathers, and had their tips blunted. I recollected myself again after another few seconds.

After what seemed forever, I saw the other trainees coming. Gobber was with them as well, his tilted stride hard to miss. As they got closer, I could see the other teens. Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Snoutlout, and Astrid were there.

Joy.

I didn't feel like getting a headache yet, so I headed across on my own. This left me alone for a few precious moments at the entry gate before they came. Gobber took his sweet time, hobbling one foot after the other, leisurely grabbing the gate, and made a dramatic greeting.

"Welcome to dragon training!" With this announcement, he opened the now opened gate and allowed us entry to the Kill Ring

I didn't see anything special with it, but to the rest, it was something to be basked in. The rain from this morning left puddles in the ground, the walls were wet stone with scorches, and the roof was a network of chains being held up like a tent. It really wasn't anything special, just a hole in the ground with a rusty chain roof. However, the other teens were gazing at the place in awe. I vaguely wondered if anyone else noticed the large, growling doors.

"I hope I get some _serious_ burns."

"I'm hoping for some mauling, like, on my shoulder or lower back."

"Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it."

"What?" I couldn't help but hear the three's conversation. The twins and Astrid were just entering the ring, and the first thing they say is wishing for scars? What the heck?

"Why," I chuckled "would you hope for something like that?"

The teens stopped walking, all were looking either at me or the potential fight. Snotlout sauntered up to me, his pig nose pointed to the sky.

"And what is wrong about that? Scars are awesome! It's just another way of saying how awesome someone is! Like a badge, or something. Like this cat scratch I have on my elbow! See that Astrid?" He looked back to wink at the poor girl, apparently showing off his 'awesome' scar.

"Oh, that makes so much sense now." I gave him a bland look, making sure to lay the sarcasm heavily. "So getting scars show that you're 'awesome' enough to just barely escape death, right?"

"Yep!"

"And 'awesome' enough to get yourself injured enough to mare you, right?"

"Uh, yeah! Sure, why not!"

"Then, surely, that means that scars are 'awesome' prizes that don't cripple you right? Let's say, a missing limb or a blinded eye."

"Oh no! Those totally count! Why, the larger the scar, the awesomer you get!"

"Oh! So then Gobber is more 'awesomer' than Stoic, huh?"

"No, Stoic is so much better."

"But he doesn't have any missing limbs like Gobber has."

"That's what makes him that much cooler! Stoic is so good that he doesn't get scars!"

"So, no scars equal even more 'awesome' points than a scar?"

"Totally!"

Gullible twit. I left him standing there, smirking as he looked pleased with "convincing" me how cool scars where. Surprisingly, Gobber and the girls were laughing with me. But this didn't last long, because Gobber started announcing more to us.

"Let's get started! The recruit who does best will win the honor of killing his first dragon in front of the entire village!" He said this while walking to one of the cage's entrance.

"Behind these doors are a few of the many species you will learn to fight. The Deadly Nadder-

"Speed 8, armor 12."

"-the Hideous Zippleback-"

"Plus 11 stealth times two…"

"-the Monsterous Nightmare-"

"Fire power 15."

"-the Terrible Terror-"

"Attack 8, venom 12!"

"Will you stop that!"

During Gobber's 'introduction,' Fishlegs has been giving his two-cents on the dragons. I, had no clue what nonsense he was spouting, something about numbers?

"And finally, the Gronkle."

"Jaw strength 8…"

And for what reason does he think that I can get use from this info?

Gobber had rested his hand on a lever, but now he grasped it firmly. He had a strange look on his face that didn't seem good for your health.

"Whoa whoa, wait! Aren't you going to teach us first!?"

"I believe on learning on the job!"

Correction, for _my_ health!

Next thing I knew, a flying bolder was coming right at my face! Letting the familiar pull of instinct take over, I dodged to the right, avoiding the charge. I let out a wince when I heard a solid bang when stone hit scale. I knew that Gronkles had thick, durable skin that most Viking complained about, but it seemed all the more threatening in the ring.

"Today is about survival," Gobber informed us from the sidelines, "if you get blasted, you're dead!"

Well he didn't have to be no nonchalant about it! I wonder how he would feel if he was down here with no weapon, no escape, and no guidance while some other jerk is laughing at him! Wait, I wasn't defenseless, I had my arrows!

"Quick! What is the first thing you're going to need?"

"Plus 5 speed!?"

"A weapon!" I pulled out my bow and arrow, if I could just snag the eye…

"A shield!"

"Shield! Go!"

"What?!" At his signal, everyone else ran up to the round objects scattering the floor on the other side of the ring. But why were they? If you have a weapon, then you can get the first shot! Every second counts in battle, there is not a moment to waste!

"Your most important piece of equipment is your shield. If you must make a choice between a sword or a shield, take the shield!"

I was in such shock, I actually froze on the spot. I only regained reality when Gobber snatched my bow and switched it with a shield. With the last latch in place, he gave back my weapon and wobbled back. Now I had a big, clumsy piece of wood –of all things to make your protection with against fire-breathing dragons- attached to my arm. The thing was awkward, there was no way to pull back the string without the stupid plank screwing up my aim!

"Get your hands off my shield!"

"They're, like, a million shields!"

"Take that one, it has a flower on it, girls like flowers."

CLANG!

"Opps, now this one has blood on it."

The twins got themselves in a fight, over a shield no less! That alone was a stupid reason to pester over, but they took it further, the two siblings were fighting over the _design_ on the front of the plank. It was really no surprise that two were the first ones out.

"Tuffnut, Ruffnut, you're out." Did he sound bored now?!

A few grunts answered and the pair left the fray. Two down, four to go! Still heaving the clunky object, I circled the creature. Even with my arm dangling, my feet still had the grace I was born with. Light feet skirted a safe distance away, far enough to stay out of the dragon's line of sight, but close enough to still be in the 'fight.' It was annoying, but I kept my weighted arm stiff, steadying my aim to shoot at the eye. I took a deep breath, and started to lift my first and middle finger-

"Those shields are good for another thing, noise. Makes lots of it to throw of a dragon's aim!"

The teens quickly banged their shields with their chosen weapons, clanging and banging away my focus. I growled when my arrow, which was perfectly aimed at the slit of the eye, shot itself at the stone wall. My sudden anger, and the constant crashing and bashing, started up a migraine. What timing! I didn't even have to say, 'it can't be worst!'

Eye twitching, I ignored the other's glares at the lack of obedience. Unlike me, they had their stone tools making the loudest noises they can. Not only did I think this was pointless, but I didn't have the proper banging tool. My bow may be stronger than most, but it was still made of wood. If it didn't break at the abuse, it wouldn't make the sound needed to confuse the dragon.

"All dragons have a limited number of shots, how many does a Gronkle have?"

"5?"

"No 6!"

"Correct 6! That's one for each of you!"

"I really don't think-"

Fishlegs was thankfully cut off by a well put fire blast. The ball of fire didn't hit him, but rather, the arm that was in the air. Lucky for him, that particular arm had a plank of wood there.

"Fishlegs, out!"

The bookworm took it like a man and promptly let out a shriek as he left. Three are out for the count, leaving another three in the battle. I saw the Gronkle's eyes look strait into mine, and saw it's gaping maw glow red. I managed to dodge the lump of magma, and even was able to leave with only my shoes showered lightly in embers. In my haste to avoid the shot, my shield hit my leg. I nearly tripped, but I could already feel a pulse as a bruise started to form.

"So anyway, I'm moving into my parent's basement, you should come by sometime to work out, you look like you work out."

The sound of the Gronkle's launch was followed by the sound of an airhead being popped.

"Snotlout, youre done!"

And then there we're two.

"So, guess it's just you and me huh…"

"No, just you."

This came from the girl who wanted me to be part of the group? Nice warning, I was just able to puzzle out what you were saying when the beast's fire flew across my face.

"One shot left!"

I was sick of this, I didn't even want to be here, yet I was still being played like a fool! Not only that, but they were teaching us all flaws! You can't fight with a shield, you can't move, and you can't even protect yourself! This useless piece of hazard was made of wood for crying out loud! What good would it do to a _fire-freaking-dragon_! My headache escalated, leaving a ring whenever my heartbeat thumps against my temples.

Thump-innnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng...

How did we survive seven generations of this! We were lucky enough to live one week!

Thump-innnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng…

What would you do with only a shield!? Against a dragon, none of the attacks you can use will do anything! You need a weapon! I thought all Viking knew this! The only way you can kill a dragon is with a weapon, you don't hear dramatic stories about a guy who won with a shield!

Thump-innnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng…

If they can't figure _this_ out on their own…

Thump-innnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng…

_I'll show them!_

I wrestled with the leather straps, ignoring how I scratched at my skin. After tearing away the atrocity, I swiftly grabbed an arrow. The holder on my back felt heavy, there were too many arrows. During this whole training session, I only used one. These took a large chunk of my time, time that I won't get back. These were made especially for training, now seemingly useless.

"Toothless!" Gobber yelled, surprised at my actions.

I pulled the string taut, a sneer formed at my rage. I felt anger toward the ignorant Vikings, but I wasn't allowed to attack them. So all I could do was relieve this stress on the flying target in front of me. My keen eye lined up my arrow, right at the eye of the charging beast. Before I shoot my arrow, a sudden thought appeared.

Do all dragons have the same eyes?

I let the arrow fly, watching it soar through the chain net and out of sight. I was confused at this, what happened to the Gronkle? Where did it go? What was I aiming at? Why was my side hurting?

Before, only my leg was smarting from the hit it took from my shield. But now, my whole left side was hurting. My elbow was bleeding, my knee skinned, and my head had a suspicious knot. I rolled back on my feet –when did I hit the ground?- and witness a wrestling match between Gobber and the Gronkle.

"That's six. Go back to bed you overgrown sausage!"

Something wasn't right, but I couldn't remember what. I knew that I had the Gronkle in my line of sight, but what happened afterward? I attempted to think back, but my head wasn't working. All I could decipher was an arm, scales, and hard rock.

It took a few more moments, but our instructor was able to cage the beast back into it's cage. Even with having it's shot limit shot, it still fought with all it could. I could still hear the reptile chuffing through the thick, bolted doors.

"You'll get another chance, don't you worry!"

Though Gobber remained unfazed at his tough tug-a-war, the rest of us were panting and leaning over ourselves for balance. I myself was still on the ground, breathing a bit fast from the exertion. Once I was back on two feet, I looked up to find Gobber in my face.

"Remember, a dragon will always, _always_, go for the kill."

He was looking at me specifically, as if I needed the reminder. Thoughts were forming back, my mind was changing itself back into working condition.

I had everything under control, I could have ended the beast if someone would have allowed me to. But our "teacher" had to "helpfully" inform us on how to fight. Thanks to his "wonderful" and "useful" facts, Berk will now have a nice batch of wood-wielding warriors prepared for battle!

Grumbling to myself, I forced my way between the other teens. I ignored the snide comments and rude remarks, choosing to walk briskly to the woods. I needed to clear my head, a peaceful stride through the forest should help me.

Between the border of Berk and the beginning of the tree line, my mind recalled something. During my second attack at the Gronkle, I had wondered about it's eye color. Actually, I was thinking about dragon eyes in general, and if the all looked the same. Why did I ponder over such a thing? Why did I care? What brought this on?

A certain dragon came to mind, one who was blending with the orange rocks and had large, green, silted eyes. Black silts were surrounded, not with the Gronkle's amber eyes, but with a green, grassy color. It was completely random, and it confounded me to why it was so. So one dragon out of thousands had green instead of yellow, no big deal.

But it was a dragon out of thousands that had green eyes instead of yellow. Monstrous Nnightmare, Hideous Zippleback, Terrible Terrors, Deadly Nadders, they all had the same color as the Gronkle's. Why was this one different?

Time passed as I pondered, and my feet lead me to a strange, but familiar, site. It was the cove, the small lake mirroring the sky above. It was really a beautiful find, with the roots of trees entangled and sprouting from the rock, moss and grass giving this freezing isle life it usually does have, and a singing bird in a nest high above on a tree branch. Beautiful.

However, with these thoughts came the memory of before. Memories of the strange dragon that stole my ram, and allowed me to escape. Gobber's warning came to mind, and a single question seemed to ring in the air around me.

So why didn't you?

That was when I heard a boulder move.

* * *

How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Dreamworks,

which was inspired by Cressida Cowell.


	6. Mind's Eye

"LET ME OUT!"

For what seemed to be the thousandth time, I tried to climb the roots of a tree to the top of the cove. And then proceeded to loose my grip, fall, and wipe away dirt on my now soiled clothing. I looked up to the beast that had trapped me here, watching his silted eyes stare innocently back at me.

"Let me out you piece of scat so that I may proceed to skin you alive and wear you as armor!"

There was little reaction from the giant lizard, only a slight tilt of the head. It's massive ears opened at its widest, uncurling from it's usual horn shape.

I snarled at it, "I am not a pet! I am a human being! I will not be trapped by a stupid, idiotic, _brainless, _DRAGON!"

Ditching the roots, I ran back to the other side of the cove. I could feel a hole in my wet boots, the sole being worn down from all the climbing attempts. My arms were hurting from their constant use, my knees shook from the recent landing, and my hands were rubbed raw. Still, I ignored the way my breath panted and continued to find a way out.

I entered the cove after training, intending on clearing my head. But not long after, the dragon I was just thinking about decided on moving a boulder large enough to block the only exit. Ever since then, I have been slowly loosing my sanity as I tried to escape. I tried it all, the rocks, the roots, I even swam in the pond! Through it all, the green eyes of the one responsible peered at me from the lip of the cliff, mocking me.

Now I was cold, wet, dirty, and tired.

I tried to find a foothold; I was already halfway out of here! But the rock I was holding gave away, and my second hand wasn't fast enough to grab another support. I fell to the bottom again, and couldn't find the energy to move anymore.

I lied there, felling the abuse I put my limbs through. I groaned it pain, I closed my eyes in exhaustion, and I nearly fell asleep right there. The grass and dirt underneath me felt so soft at the moment, the evening air was cool and comfortable, and the woodland noises were like a lullaby. I could sense my mind being slowly shut down, and my eyes had blackness crawling around the edges.

But I remembered the dragons still, so I shoved all that aside. I moaned when my muscles refused to move, but managed to at least sit down and lean against the wall. I was too tired to glare. All I could do was try to keep my eyes open.

I heard something land close by. I looked up to see the dragon climb on the rock pillar, the one where I first saw him. Though, his orange coloring was a stark difference against the white stone. It was hard to ignore he was there. I couldn't see the sheep, nor hear it. I assume that it has been consumed already. Strangely, I didn't care about it anymore, all I wanted to do now was to leave and find a place to sleep.

The dragon only looked at me, poking his head out from its perch. I could see its tail swishing, watching it whip and curl with each lazy movement. I could see its wings too, literally draped on its shoulders, black in color. Upon closer look, what I though were horns before was actually his ears. They were huge, just as big if not bigger than his eyes. I saw them open up whenever it was really quite, and then close back when I started yelling again.

He just kept staring at me, unblinkingly. It unnerved me a bit, especially since I was now too tired to fight back. I was vulnerable. I would be panicking, but my sore body refused to move. Instead, my equally tired mind only noted the oddest thing about this beast.

I still couldn't see a mouth on it.

I could see his eyes clearly, I could see his horns, I could see his frill around his head, and I could count his'freckles 'if I really wanted to. But I couldn't see a mouth, it was very unusual.

He, I assume it's a he, gradually rose up from it's perch. I now saw some of his neck, slightly elongated, not like a Monstrous Nightmare but not like a Terror's neck either. It stopped short though, like it was mulling something over. Then he looked back at me, giving out a croon of sorts.

My anger was long gone by now, and my fear was lost in my need to sleep. My mind was ignoring common sense, instead listening to instinct. For some reason, confusion was the only thing I was feeling. Why confusion of all things? Shouldn't I feel threatened? Shouldn't I feel exposed to such danger? My head was too numb to think deeply, so I just pushed it aside. I turned my head, the only way I could express myself. It surprised me when the dragon's head also tilted.

I was tired, really, really, tired. But I somehow felt safe enough to fall asleep, looking into the eyes of my enemy.

* * *

I woke up when the rain started. Unfortunately on Berk, all rains began pouring. I found myself face first on a puddle of mud in seconds. I had half my face caked in mud already, not to mention my feet being frozen from my previous swim in the pond. I got up from by wet bed and wiped away any other dirt from my person. I didn't help much.

My clothes were trashed. My shoes had holes, my pants had mud stuck between the seams, and my shirt had tears on the sleeves. The only thing that seems reusable was my vest, it only had mud stuck to it, easily washable. And to think I have to return to mom like this. I was so dead.

I stood up to start walking back, when I realized where I was. Through the rain, I could see the forest all around me, their branches drooping from all the water. The trees stretched as far as my eyes could see, which was not long. But what threw me off was that these trees used to be out of reach, too far up to even see the tips on some of them.

_Where's the cove?_

I used to be trapped, surrounded by white rocks. I could still feel my body smarting from all the times I had tried to escape. I remember trying fruitlessly to find a way out of the cove. Now I was out, without any memory of escaping my prison.

_Where am I?_

Was I back in the forest? Was I still on Berk? Or was I on a completely different island? These questions and more swarmed my brain, making me frantic for answers. I whipped my head around, looking in one direction, then the other. Are these the same trees as the ones at home? Wasn't there a nest in that branch, or was it the tree over there? I looked up, squinting at the rain pouring down. Is this Berk's rain? Why couldn't it rain somewhere else? What would the stars be? Would I be able to spot the North Star and find my way back?

I moved in circles during my scouting, and managed to fumble and land back into the mud I woke up in. Fortunately, only my pants suffered any damage. I glared at the dirty water, but stopped when I spotted footprints. These footprints weren't from any human, it was too big. These prints were also too deep for any Viking, but they seemed forced. I recognized the print, not too long ago, I followed them. These prints led me to the cove I was trapped in, when I was looking for my ram.

These were the dragon's, but I was reluctant to follow them. The first time, it led me to my future cage, would they lead me to another trap? Despite what I thought, there was really no other way of knowing where I was. Besides, the dragon wasn't being hostile to me earlier, he might just be playing with me. He could just be a baby dragon fooling around with me, laughing and cackling at his own little jokes.

_Or he could be playing with me like a cat would to a rat._

I shook my head. Even if this made sense for a dragon to do, I was not rat. I was human being, I could outwit any Viking or beast that comes my way! With that in mind, I slowly followed the tracks left for me. I took every step as if I was on thin ice, I had no idea what this dragon had planned for me. I a rather large tree, and my jaw hit the ground.

From my vantage point, I could see smoke coming from the fires in the houses bellow. I was on a hill, Raven's Point off to the side. I could barely see the houses, but I could see the building on the other hill. I could see two barns, a fence blocking the herd from grazing too far. I squinted my eyes to see two figures, one carrying a wheelbarrow and one in the wheelbarrow. If I strained my ears, familiar moans could be heard.

I was still on Berk. That was Mulch and Bucket over there. And that must be the chief's house, and that the healer's! Such relief filled my being, I actually found myself smiling at finding my boring village. Despite my abused body, I ran down the hill and through the forest to get back home.

That happy feeling only lasted another second before my brain went haywire. As soon as I peaked that hill, there were no other tracks in sight. They could have been washed out or filled in with the mud and rain, but I could see the pits of prints behind me. Just the same as last time, theses tracks were intentional. They were here for a purpose, this one being me finding Berk.

But, why? Why would a dragon do something like this? What was it's purpose? If it wanted to eat me, then it would have back in the cove the first time. If it wanted to lure other Vikings with me, why have such a willing culprit? Wouldn't a screaming babe attract more attention than one lone-wolf of a teen? If it wanted my sheep for a food source, then why would it kidnap me? I was the shepherd, yes, but it should have known that the sheep are too dumb to care about anything outside of their own little world.

_No! It shouldn't have known! It's a dragon, dragons are not smart!_

This little voice continued to yell out facts to me, trying to convince me that it is right. But, now after going through what I did, it was much harder to agree to. That dragon managed to trick me, twice! Not only that, but I fell for the same thing twice! I followed the convenient footprints, and both led me to the cove. I was lucky to get out the first time, but the second time was all at the dragon mercy.

_Face it, that dragon played you like a fiddle_.

There was no denying it now, that dragon had a brain. Out of all the dumb species we ran across, the one with the brain went out for me. But, again, why? And how? How did it know that I would go get my prized ram if it was stolen? How did it figure out which ram was which? Has it been watching me? Has it targeted me for a reason?

_Why was it on Berk in the first place?_

From all the raids I have seen, all the dragons came from their unknown isle at Heliem's Gate. We all saw them come from that direction, and we all have seen them leave the same way. Never once did we find a stray dragon fly to another region. So why was this one here? We barely had enough food for ourselves, how would this small island support a dragon's appetite? There were no other dragons here –as far as we've heard- so a potential mate it out. No dragon in their right mind would live here, not when their sworn enemies are their neighbors! We would attack anything hostile, and we would kill dragons without remorse.

_Dragons will always, always, go for the kill._

Gobber's teaching went through my head, stopping any other questions. Despite everything else he taught in the ring, he was right. Dragons were merciless monsters, taking what ever chance they could to rid themselves of enemies. If they saw a warrior weaponless, they will attempt to chase them off a cliff. If one noticed a Viking injured, they will leave ashes where there was once a body. If they saw anything flammable, they set it alight. Destructive, brutal, horrifying monsters that hunt all of us in our sleep.

_But were we any better?_

I didn't know where this came from. With this now in my mind, I actually started to consider it. Dragons were our mortal enemies, we have been fighting them for over five generations. So, technically speaking, the dragons would be the same. Right? Let's just assume all dragons had minds of their own. In their mind's eye, we were the destructive, brutal, horrifying monsters that they warn their children about.

When on attacks, then a whole swarm suddenly appears. When one falls, two take his/her place. The Vikings shoot rocks with rope to tie them down, crippling them, grounding them. We wear their teeth and claws as accessories, the ghost of the living haunting them during the fight. We charge at them, steel glinting and shields at the ready, one living mass. We take prisoners, forcing them to an open cage. Every time they get out for training, they could see the sky. They could see the clouds, the sun, the blue sky. They could feel the wind, but can do nothing when little Vikings are between them and the chain.

_We sound like monsters…_

Good thing that they don't have minds of their own, they're nothing but animals.

_All but one..._

By now, I could see building betweenthe trunks of tree. The rain was still dumping everything it had on me, I welcomed it, the cold numbed my body. My mind was empty of thoughts, along with my stomach. My belly growled and sent a hollow feeling throughout my body. I had an early breakfast this morning, I had no lunch during my walk in the woods, and my training and escaping drained me. I was really, really hungry at this point.

I pushed away the tall doors with semi-difficulty. I normally have little problems opening the mead hall doors, but my arms still ached from my episode in the cove. I closed them with the same amount of difficulty, keeping as much water outside as possible. I made my was to get my food, but halted when I spotted the other teens at a table with Gobber.

"Where did Toothless go wrong?"

"He didn't do nothin'!"

"He got scared stiff!"

"He didn't do what he should have."

Crud, not this again. It seemed that they were reviewing how training went, and I entered when I was being critiqued. Lucky me. I glared at all of them, ignored Gobber's agreement, and grabbed the plate full of cold food. I had to get my drink around Snotlout. I made my way to get it when he started to shuffle his way to me. He apparently thought that I wanted to sit with the 'cool' kids, nitwit. I gave his seat a kick, making his gut greet the table. Then I obtained my drink, almost smiling at Snotlout's wheezy breath.

"You need to live and breathe this stuff."

A slam was heard. I looked over at my spot on an empty table to try to see, but only got a back full of Gobber. Eww.

"The Dragon Manual, everything we know about every dragon we know of."

Thunder boomed outside, but I hardly noticed. My eyes had spotted the large book on the table. It was noticeable old, the cover stained and the edges of the pages worn and torn, but my mind processed what Gobber had said. My body froze, this book could have the answers I was looking for.

"No attacks tonight, study up."

The twins started complaining about reading, but I was tuning them all out. I wanted to jump up and snag the book so that I could find that dragon, but I chose to stay down instead. I may be curious, but some of them would be suspicious of me acting as such. Well, not the twins or chief, but Astrid and Fishlegs would suspect something. Astrid was smart, I guess I'd give her that, she might be able to theorize something going on. Fishlegs might have a clue, but he might just be wondering why I took a sudden intrest in dragon species all of a sudden. So I had three choices, get questioned by a rabid she-male, be classified as a nerd, or remain my title as lone-wolf.

"I read it, like, seven times! There is this water dragon that spews boiling water at your face! And, and, another one that buries itself for like a week and-"

NOPE! No, no, no, no, no, biggest nope that I can offer! There is no way in any of the hells that I will be grouped up with _that._

* * *

It was dark now, mother would question why I was out so long. But I would just tell her the truth, I was tired after training, took a walk in the woods, lost track of time, and started reading the manual like Gobber recommended, easy.

With a few candles around the book, they gave me enough reading light in the pitch blackness. I looked at the cover, staring into the eye of the stylized dragon on the front. I begged to Odin that this book would have the answers I needed, after that, I then opened the book.

The book even smelt old, having a smell I could only describe as dusty, some parts of the pages were thin too. The pages were made of the sturdy, thick paper, but the pages were rubbed so much from calloused fingers that it has worn down flower petal thin. The runes on the sheet were written in charcoal, bold and slightly smeared across the pages. It was still legible, Viking having enough pride to be somewhat gentle with one of their most prized possessions.

"Dragon classifications: Strike Class, Fear Class, Mystery Class."

I was shocked to find that someone actually classified the different species, I guess some Berkains do have brains. Unfortunately, it was only pretty words to me, I had no clue how dragons were grouped. Since this was my first time looking at all the known dragons, all I could do was check each dragon listed here, one at a time.

I gently lifted the page, exposing a picture of a dragon with a large mouth, wide body, and small eyes. It was some species called a Thunderdrum, known for their sound blasts. If there was any dragon the opposite of the one I found, this was it. I flipped to the next page.

The Timberjack was known for it's talons on its enormous wingspan. Not the dragon I was looking for, but man does it look cool!

Scoldron, this was the one Fishlegs was talking about. This dragon doesn't shoot flames, but it makes up for it by boiling water at a scalding temperature. When threatened, it will shoot salt water hot enough to leave a two degree burn. Neat.

A Changwing is part of the 'Mysery Class,' these types of dragons where widely unknown about their behavior, reasons, and abilities. This one happened to have the ability to blend in with it's environment. This sounded promising, what with the way it blended in with the walls the first time I meet it, but my dragon didn't have those crescent horns at the side of his face. Still, I should keep an eye out for more Mystery Class dragons.

The next one was about the Gronkle, I was ready to skip it, but my curiousity from the other facts I've read made me pause. Good thing I did, turns out, Gronkles eat rocks to shoot back out as their fire. Looking back, I remembered the Gronkle from training snatch up a few boulders littered on the ground. Who said curiosity killed the cat?

I ran across one called a Zippleback, one of the dragons Gobber said we would learn to fight against. It was a two headed dragon, one head having the ability to release flammable gas and another providing the spark to light it. That has got to be one of the coolest things I have ever heard! I have seen a few of those dragons, but I was always too far from the battlefield to see what actually caused those giant explosions. Now I know!

Another wicked on I ran across was the Skrill. This dragon is rarely seen, and only ever spotted during lightning storms. It was able to ride the lightning, and shoot out white flames. Ok, how it this even possible? Thinking about how fast lighting flashes, this dragon must be really fast! One moment you'd be looking at it, then _crash_, it would be out of sight!

The Bonenapper was another one in the Mystery Class. I knew this wasn't the dragon I was looking for from the picture alone, but I thought it looked cool enough to look deeper in to. There actually wasn't much about it, other than it makes an armor out of dragon bones. I have to say, that has got to be the most kickn' looking thing I have seen yet.

Next page showed a Whispering Death, a dragon that lived underground. It had a thin, long body, and was said to have rotating teeth. I was slightly intimidated by its teeth, but another part of me wanted to see them rotate in real life. How would that work, is it the teeth themselves or the muscles underneath?

There were a lot more listed, a Devious Snaptrapper, Monsterous Nightmare, Terrible Terror, Deadly Nadder, but not the one I was looking for. I saw pictures of dragons hanging upside-down, shedding scales, eating in packs, but not one showing a dragon putting up traps. I was nearing the end of the book, the last dozen pages or so were blank. There was a noticeable difference between the worn pages and the fresh ones.

Not surprisingly, all the dragons here were listed as 'extremely dangerous, kill on sight.' I have seen this on every page thus far. It was sort of pointless to me though. No matter how cool most of these dragons are, the threat that they pose never went away. The Changwing spat acid, the Timberjack's talons were shart enough to cut down forests, and the common Zippleback used its gas as a smoke screen. All had their dangers, no amount of 'coolness' would change that.

The next page was the one I was looking for, but was not at the same time. It had very little pictures, but had nearly three times as many pages about it. The picture was a shadow of my dragon, with his ears curled. I read as much as I could, but all the information seemed like something from a horror story than the facts I've seen. It didn't help that my dragon was called a Mystic Devil.

"This dragon has been heard from near and far, stories about it have only been slightly altered but remain constant. This beast is often seen as a bad omen, sightings have been found days before a dragon attack. The most reliable descriptions note the large horns it has, as well as it's odd colored eyes. Few speculate that, like the Changewing [see in Mystery Class section], it has the power of controlling the mind. Some Vikings who looked in to the eyes of a Mystic Devil claim that a child was begging them to help. Or have tried to claim that the dragon was really a human turned into a dragon. These victims then have been driven insane, or result to treachery because of their 'beliefs.'

"Another reason for this creature's chosen name was it's ability over fire. No Viking has been close enough to see it's face, but many have seen it's flame. Some Viking were said to not feel the burn, or notice the dragon opening it's mouth to shoot the fire. Speculations from numerous elders say that the Mystic Devil was able to manipulate fire from the air itself, able to control how fierce the flame burns. The flames seldom harmed the spotters, instead using it as a distraction to startle enemies. It was never seen afterwards, rumored to have signaled an attack before it left.

"Little else is known about the Mystic Devil,

Intelligence: unknown,

Wingspan: unknown,

The harbinger and messenger of the devil themselves.

Never engage this dragon. Your only chance, hide and pray it does not find you!"

The text ended, the rest of the pages here were for future use. My eyes were glued to the last sentence, and my hands were starting to shake. I felt the unfamiliar grip of fear clasp on to me, shaking at all my tired nerves. This was my dragon, the unseen mouth, the shadow illustration, but it seem more like a spirit than a beast.

_Dragons will always, always, go for the kill._

Why didn't you then? You watched me when you trapped me, yet you let me go. You had every chance to end me when I had my eyes closed, yet you let me go. I was at your mercy, yet you looked into my eyes and let me go.

_Who are you?_

* * *

How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Dreamworks,

Inspired by the mind of Cressida Cowell.


End file.
